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... s wolves fanned out ahead, noses twitching.

Up front, the Bone Militia carved a path through the undergrowth, clearing thorny vines and thick bushes so the rest of his summons could move freely.

He pulled a worn, folded paper from his inventory, the old park service map Malcolm had handed him back in Three Lakes. According to its faded lines, he should’ve hit the edge of Greenwater National Park an hour ago.

However, since the world had gone to shit, and the planet itself ...

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